Debbi Rawlins - To Trust A Rancher

“Come on, Mom, let’s go,” Ryder said. “She needs to feed the boy.”

“I really do.” Becca smiled. “But it was so nice seeing you, Mrs. Mitchell. And you, Ryder.”

He didn’t respond. She wasn’t surprised. Something had triggered his apparent disdain for her. Did he think she should’ve dragged Amy here under protest?

“For heaven’s sake, you’re an adult now. Call me Gail. How long will you be here? I’d love to have you come to the ranch for a visit.”

Ryder had gotten his mom moving. She’d taken a few steps but stopped, waiting for Becca’s answer. Ryder’s piercing stare was unreadable. Regardless, if Gail wasn’t there, Becca didn’t doubt that she and Ryder would be having an entirely different conversation.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” Becca told her. “How’s that?”

Gail’s face lit up. “You still have the number?”

Becca nodded.

“Oh, and where is it that you’re staying?”

“At the motel,” Noah announced before Becca could stop him. “There’s a elevato and I get to push the buttons.”

His words tended to run together when he was excited. Becca supposed it was too much to hope that they hadn’t caught the first part.

“The motel?” Gail looked to her for confirmation.

Even Ryder seemed interested.

“Gail?” The shrill voice came from somewhere behind Becca. “Yoo-hoo, over here.” The woman waiting at the deli counter was waving frantically. “Don’t go anywhere. I need to talk to you.”

“Oh, it’s Irma.” Mrs. Mitchell didn’t seem pleased.

“Mommy, that lady intrumted,” Noah said with a mischievous grin.

“I know.” Becca stifled a smile. What a little imp. “Now, say goodbye.”

Gail’s chuckle did nothing to erase her troubled expression. “We’ll talk tomorrow,” she said. “In the meantime, I’m going to throw something out that I’d like you to really think about. We’ve got a lot of room at the ranch and you’re welcome to stay with us. In fact, I would love it. A motel is no place for an active young boy.”

Ryder’s jaw tightened and he pinned her with a hard stare. Clearly he didn’t share his mom’s enthusiasm. He’d be relieved to know Becca wouldn’t accept the offer. Not in a million years.

* * *

THE NEXT MORNING, Becca and Noah went down to the lobby to check out the complimentary continental breakfast. Everything from the locally made muffins and cinnamon buns to the bowls of fresh fruit looked amazing. They even offered two varieties of dry cereal. Eating breakfast here every day would give her pocketbook a small boost.

She poured some orange juice and a glass of milk for Noah, and filled a mug of coffee for herself. Of course he had eyes only for the sweets. Becca picked out an apple and a banana and let him have half a cinnamon bun as a special treat.

Patty, the woman behind the front desk, had kindly loaned her a tray so she could carry everything back to their room. Patty had even grabbed a couple of oranges from the back and set them on the tray with a second cinnamon bun despite Becca’s protest.

Ten minutes later, sitting at the small table across from Noah, Becca had finished the bun and her coffee. How could she have forgotten Marge’s cinnamon rolls? Back when she and Amy were teenagers, they’d gone to Marge’s Diner for the sweet gooey buns at least once a week.

The pleasant memory faded in seconds. Becca checked her phone, even knowing it was useless. Still nothing from Amy. Derek’s call had chipped away some of Becca’s hope, but not all of it.

Glancing up, she saw a little arm slowly reaching across the table. “Noah, stop. Finish your banana.”

“No. I want that ,” he said, pointing a sticky finger at the other half of the bun, which she’d already wrapped up in a napkin.

“I said you could have half.”

“No!”

“Don’t yell. Drink your milk.”

His cheeks growing pink, he stuck out his lower lip, and she prayed a tantrum wasn’t brewing.

She’d always limited his sugar intake, for the usual health reasons, but also to temper his intermittent outbursts. Isabella had assured her that Noah was no different from any other four-year-old, but that didn’t stop Becca from worrying. She wanted to believe Amy, who swore she hadn’t done any drugs while she was pregnant. In fact, her addiction hadn’t taken hold until after Noah was born. Still, Becca would be a fool to dismiss the possibility.

Fortunately, Noah’s pout gave way to a big yawn.

Neither of them had slept well last night. Becca knew exactly what had made her restless, but she had expected Noah to conk out.

Before she got lost in thoughts of Ryder and Gail and how she would handle the phone call that she’d promised to make, she rose and went around the table to Noah’s side.

She crouched down and slipped her arms around him. “I love you, sweet boy.”

“Love you, too, Mommy.”

She leaned back to look at him. “What do you think about taking a nap?”

His dark blue eyes turned stormy. So much like Ryder’s yesterday that her heart rate doubled. God, she wished she’d never seen the similarity.

“I’m going to lie down, too. I was hoping we could take a nap together.”

Noah frowned, clearly trying to decide if he liked the idea or not.

“Then later, when we wake up, we’ll go for a drive. There are all kinds of horses and cows around here.”

His face brightened. “Where?”

“Not too far from town.”

“Can we pet them?”

“Maybe,” she said, using his napkin to wipe the corner of his mouth. “Finish your milk and banana, okay?”

“Okay,” he said, drawing out the word into a sigh as he picked up his plastic cup.

Becca got to her feet and cleared the table, making sure she hid the remaining half of the cinnamon roll where he couldn’t see it. Maybe they’d split it later.

“Can we ride the horses?” Noah asked, setting down his empty cup and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Horses are very big. And you don’t know how to ride.”

“Do you?”

Becca nodded. “It’s been a long time, though.”

“Will you teach me?”

“We’ll see,” she said, knowing that wouldn’t happen. “Go wash your face and hands, please.”

After putting out the Do-Not-Disturb sign, she pulled back the sheets she’d tidied earlier and fluffed Noah’s pillow. He left the bathroom and headed straight for the bed, not grumbling once. But he didn’t close his eyes until she joined him.

She hadn’t tried to trick him. She welcomed sleep: twenty minutes, a half hour, three hours, whatever she could get. It didn’t take long for the guilt and fear to sink their teeth into her. Forgetting that Noah wasn’t hers by blood was much easier when she wasn’t staring his grandmother and uncle in the face.

In the plus column, Becca knew returning to Blackfoot Falls had been the right thing to do. Here, she was spared the fear that Derek might suddenly show up and drag Noah away. Aside from the Mitchells, and worrying about Amy, her other problem had to do with work.

Her boss was a nice guy but his patience extended only so far. And she needed a paycheck. Soon. Just because she’d left LA didn’t mean she didn’t have to pay her rent. And Isabella, God bless her, had refused the money Becca had tried to give her since it wasn’t her fault she wouldn’t be needed for a week...or two. But Becca preferred to be optimistic.

Later, she figured she’d go take a look at her grandparents’ house. See what kind of shape it was in. Thinking about the modest homestead surrounded by blue sky and open space calmed her. Her pulse had slowed and her eyelids drooped. She snuggled into the pillow and started to drift off...